“Talking nonsense is the sole privilege mankind possesses over the other organisms. It’s by talking nonsense that one gets to the truth!” ~Dostoyevsky
As I am new to blogging, my first and fundamental doubt is – Am I talking nonsense? The existential dubiety gnaws at my soul.
From the primordial question, more follow:
Should I shut up? Is this mere vanity publishing? Or ego rampant?
Will anyone listen to ME? Will anyone “talk” to me? Do I count?
Moral and spiritual questions.
How should I live ethically? Does life have a meaning? Should I write “as if” and adopt a persona? Is there a God? Does She care? Do I care about Her? And what is the meaning of love? How should I love? And whom?
And what about the proles? To whom, lacking either income or status, I now indubitably belong…
None of this matters in the moment of jouissance, the sheer ecstasy of writing. I shall talk nonsense – but beautiful nonsense – and I shall write for the pure pleasure of writing well. When I lived in Paris, in 1978, I became very interested in the writings of Julia Kristeva and Roland Barthes, and the concept of jouissance.
Pleasure is its own reward, an amoral, almost libidinous joy. Not quite on the level of good sex, but on the level of good sex for the mind. Especially if someone, oh someone! responds, perhaps from another country! Or my own city!
Communication and coitus are both so…how shall I say it? …connecting…
Connection, coitus and communication: are they not things we all seek, in one form or another?
I do miss the pleasure of handling, and messily refilling, my fingers stained with Quink, a Parker fountain pen. Oh well, tant pis, technology has moved on and I must tap, tap, tap patiently as I watch the characters appear, magically it seems, on the illuminated screen…
The Dostoyevsky quotation, from the wonderfully eccentric Russophile blog poemless (http://poemless.wordpress.com) is very reassuring…